


the very proof that you've been ruined

by phantomfantaaa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (actually it's for swearing), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Family Dynamics, Gen, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, rated t for trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomfantaaa/pseuds/phantomfantaaa
Summary: On their graduation day, Hinata had offered his whole self to Kageyama. A free ball sent to Kageyama’s side of the court, positioned for a perfect set. He could have hit that toss. He could have said yes. But sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined.Kageyama Tobio has loved and lost thrice: his sister Miwa, his grandfather Kazuyo, and his partner Hinata Shouyou.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Kazuyo & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	the very proof that you've been ruined

**Author's Note:**

> *me holding up Kageyama Tobio* I just think he’s neat  
>   
> This is my first time doing a character study AND a non-linear narrative and I had such a hard time with it but I ended up posting this fic because I am obsessed with Kageyama’s relationships with his sister and grandfather ;-;

※ ※ ※

_ “Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.”  _

_ — Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous _

※ ※ ※

Kageyama Tobio was born at 10:57 p.m. on the longest night of the year. All 3.6 kilograms came into the world screaming and crying to the point of exhaustion, only stilling after falling asleep against his mother’s chest. His grandfather chose his name: Tobio. Flying hero, destined to reach peaks and summits and brush his fingertips against the sunlight. 

※ ※ ※

When people ask Kageyama why he loves volleyball so much, he usually tells them that volleyball is a sport that engages the mind as much as it does the body. What he doesn’t say is that he loves the color and the smell. 

His first memory: sitting on a gymnasium floor, barely a toddler capable of keeping himself upright, trying to catch balls from Miwa while they waited for their grandfather to finish practice. He was captivated by the way blue and yellow blended together when his sister sent the balls spinning through the air. The flash of sneakers against shiny hardwood. The smell of sweat, rubber, and air salonpas.

The tosses with Miwa evolved into passes, receives, and even spikes. Miwa eventually left to join a community team, but Kageyama still went with his grandfather to his coaching sessions—mostly out of necessity, since his parents were always working, but he didn’t mind. Kazuyo would start barking out orders for drills, and Tobio would sit facing the wall and practice his sets. The familiar sights and smells settled around his shoulders like a comforting blanket, and it always felt like home. He never needed anything else.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama was six years old when he joined his first team.

He cried the entire walk to his first practice, and Kazuyo had to practically drag him into the gymnasium.

“What are you so nervous about?” Kazuyo asked, his eyebrows lined with worry, “I thought you’d be excited.”

Kageyama simply squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, digging his heels into the sidewalk right outside the entrance. Kazuyo looked down at his grandson and, understanding, walked Kageyama to a nearby bench and sat down with him.

Kazuyo brushed wisps of hair from Kageyama’s forehead. “Are you scared?” he asked in a low and gentle voice. 

Kageyama nodded.

“What’s scaring you?”

He pouted, trying to find words for his fears. He was scared of so much: meeting new people, making new friends, learning to play with others, facing criticism from his new coach, being the worst on his team, disappointing his grandfather… 

“I understand that new things can be scary,” Kazuyo placed his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, “but they can also be exciting. You finally get to play with other boys your age instead of playing by yourself!”

“I can just play with you and Miwa,” Kageyama replied with a frown.

“Ah but you need six people for a team, Tobio,” Kazuyo reminded with a click of his tongue, “and you want to be a setter, right?”

He nodded.

“To be a setter, you need people to set  _ for _ . You can’t do it all alone.”

He nodded again, but his stomach still lurched at the thought of entering the gymnasium. What if the other kids didn’t like him? What if they thought he was shy or weird or—

Kazuyo stood up, interrupting his thoughts, and brushed the dust off his pants. “It’s now or never, Tobio. Ready?” He reached over to wrap his long, calloused fingers over Kageyama’s small, clammy hand and squeezed. “And remember, you can’t control other people’s actions or their opinions of you. You can only control yourself.”

※ ※ ※

Kageyama is going to tear out his hair. He might actually kill someone. Specifically, a short, annoying, useless, orange-haired boy who walks around like the sun shines out of his ass. 

High school was already proving to be a nightmare. First, he got rejected by Shiratorizawa. So he settled for Karasuno—he could still train under the renowned Coach Ukai—only to learn on his first day that Ukai-sensei had already retired. At least he could still play volleyball, except that dumbass Hinata showed up and decided to ruin it all by causing a ruckus and knocking the vice principal’s toupee off. And now he’s stuck with this tangerine-looking little shit who  _ will _ be the reason they lose the 3 on 3, and consequently… Kageyama shudders at the thought of playing any position other than setter. 

Kageyama wanted to start a fight the second Hinata stepped into the gym.  _ Of course _ he remembered Hinata. Not because his skills left a particularly strong impression—quite the opposite—but because it was impossible to forget someone so annoying and overconfident, despite having never played a real volleyball match, who dared to march right up to Kageyama and declare himself a rival. As if they were even on the same level. 

They’re on their third consecutive hour of practice and Hinata has yet to successfully receive a single serve from Kageyama. Kageyama is tempted to aim his next serve right at Hinata’s stupid, determined face, but he doesn’t because that’s something Hinata would do and Kageyama is much more mature than that. So he lands a perfect serve instead—one that would have been  _ so easy _ to receive—but Hinata still misses it somehow. Kageyama is going to strangle him. 

“Dumbass! You’re hopeless!” Kageyama screams at Hinata, “Just leave it all to me on Saturday, okay? I’ll handle everything. You just stay out of my way.”

“Rude! So mean, Kageyama,” Hinata whines, “How are you going to receive, set, and attack all on your own, huh?” 

Kageyama’s brows scrunch together and he scowls. “I have that second year Tanaka. At least I can do something decent with his attacking power.”

“But the whole point of this 3 on 3 was for us to learn how to be teammates,” Hinata continues whining. His voice grates against Kageyama’s ears. “They won’t let you be setter if we don’t learn how to play together.” 

Kageyama curses under his breath. He won’t admit it out loud, but the dumbass is unfortunately correct. If it weren’t for the rules, he could just do it all himself, and he’d still be more likely to win than with this piece of shit dragging him down.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama loved running because of his sister. Every day, they would lace up their sneakers and go on a run with their grandfather. Miwa had eight years on Kageyama and over a foot in height, and her long legs would carry her farther and faster than Kageyama’s could. That never stopped him from trying to keep up with her, Kazuyo laughing twenty steps behind. 

Sometimes at night, Miwa would let Kageyama watch when she practiced volleyball with Kazuyo. When she was in a particularly good mood, she would let Kageyama sub in.

“Here, you serve so Miwa can practice receiving.” Kazuyo placed the ball in Kageyama’s hands, and he gently maneuvered Kageyama’s smaller limbs to adjust his form. Kageyama sent the ball in a near-perfect arc toward his sister, but it wobbled toward the end and missed his target by a whole foot. Miwa dove to the ground and managed to get her arms under the ball in time, but Kageyama still frowned in disappointment. 

“Why does she need to practice receives if she’s a setter?” he asked his grandfather, eyes still on the ball on the ground. 

Kazuyo smiled at him with warm eyes. “It’s important to be well-rounded. Miwa is a setter, but she still needs to be able to play the other positions. There’s only so much you can do to control the ball, and sometimes your spiker may need to set, and your blockers still need to receive. You gotta have your teammates’ backs,” he finished with a wink.

After that, Kageyama did drills with Miwa and his grandfather as often as he could, practicing sets, serves, receives, spikes, and everything else under the sun. 

※ ※ ※

Kageyama practiced with his grandfather in the backyard every evening. It was an escape.

His father got fired from his old job, so the family moved to a different part of town. His parents were working longer hours, and the scarce moments they were both at home were filled with yelling. Kageyama had to change schools because of the move, and whatever few friends he made inevitably drifted out of his life—he was dedicated to volleyball, and that left little time for friendship. Miwa was about to finish junior high, and her appearances at the backyard practices were becoming more and more infrequent as she had to focus more on school. 

Everything around him was changing, but Kageyama could, at the very least, rely on the consistency of nighttime practices with his grandfather.

Tonight, Kazuyo was tossing balls in the air for Kageyama to spike. Miwa walked by without acknowledging them, her eyes glued to her phone screen. 

“Miwa,” Kazuyo called out, “come join us! It’s been so long since you played.”

Miwa glanced up from her phone. “I’m not playing volleyball anymore.” 

Kageyama nearly dropped the ball he was holding. 

“What? You will not play volleyball anymore, Miwa?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to cut my hair…” She tucked a few long, sleek strands behind her ear. “It’s an unspoken rule that girls on the high school team cut their hair short.” 

Here was Miwa, his older sister, the one who introduced him to volleyball and had loved the sport more than anything. Miwa, who used to throw balls at him when he was a toddler, who went on runs with him that turned into races that she won every time, who taught him how to toss with pinpoint accuracy. Miwa, eight years older than him and completely different in personality, but still shared the same burning passion for volleyball. 

Miwa, who quit volleyball for something as inconsequential as hair. 

Later that night, when Kageyama struggled to fall asleep, he felt his body overflow with… Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? Whatever it was, he was filled with _ something _ that made the edges of his vision darken and his head spin. Miwa was leaving volleyball, leaving the one thing they shared across the vast age difference, leaving  _ him.  _ That night, Kageyama learned that things are not permanent, that people can fall out of love. He laid the first bricks around his heart. 

※ ※ ※

Despite his best attempts, Kageyama cannot get this stupid ball of sunshine to leave him alone. 

He’s begrudgingly accepted that he has to practice with Hinata before classes and during lunch and after school—only out of necessity because they have a game to win on Saturday. But winning does not require Hinata following him when he walks home from practice, with his annoying bike rattling by his side and his annoying orange hair that bounces when he walks and his annoying mouth that spouts out all sorts of nonsense like  _ Kageyama, what’s your favorite food?  _ or  _ Did you see the new movie that came out last weekend?  _

Kageyama never answers, but it never discourages Hinata. Nothing discourages Hinata. No matter how many times he goes unanswered, messes up a serve, makes a fool of himself, he just continues shining like the stupid ball of sunshine he is.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama had a hard time with people.

People were complicated. Volleyball was straightforward. All his teammates had to do was jump higher and hit faster. Kageyama knew his sets were perfect, each one a meticulously crafted toss served on a silver platter, designed to get past the tallest blockers. It was simple: just hit the balls. But for some reason, the other boys on his team couldn’t get their shit together. At this rate, they were never going to beat Chidoriyama at the next junior prefectural tournament. 

Kageyama yelled in frustration and slammed a ball into the ground, sending it ricocheting into the upper bleachers. Their coach had already dismissed the team, but Kageyama stayed behind to practice drills. If his teammates couldn’t perform up to his standards, then Kageyama just had to be perfect. Better than perfect. He’d do everything himself if he had to. 

He finally left the gym an hour later when the custodians kicked him out. He found his grandfather standing near the exit, leaning against a wall and reading a leather-bound book. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Kazuyo looked up from his book. “It’s okay, I figured you would stay late so I haven’t been waiting long.”

The short walk home was quiet, the soft sounds of footsteps against concrete filling the warm night air. 

“How was practice?”

Kageyama grunted in response.

“What’s wrong?”

Kageyama sighed at how easy he was to read, sometimes. “My teammates are being dumb,” he muttered, “I keep telling them to jump higher and faster so they can hit my sets, but they just aren’t trying hard enough.”

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Kazuyo mused.

“Of course it is,” Kageyama huffed, “We’re playing Chidoriyama next weekend and there’s no way we can get past their blockers like this.” 

“There are only so many things in life you can control,” Kazuyo chided gently, “You can control your technique, but you can’t control your opponents. And you can’t control your teammates. There are six of you on the court, and you must work together.” 

“But hitting my sets is the only way we can win,” Kageyama insisted.

“Tobio,” Kazuyo’s voice hardened, “You can only control yourself. Always remember that.”

Kageyama dedicated himself to things he could control, things that were straightforward. He filed his nails daily to keep his tosses precision perfect. He wrote in his volleyball journal after every single practice and match. He ate healthy foods, slept for eight hours every night, and drank lots of milk to take care of his body. He ran three miles every morning and did drills in the backyard every evening. He didn’t understand people, but he understood these things. 

※ ※ ※

When the four-eyed beanpole calls Kageyama “Your Highness,” Kageyama’s blood boils. But when he reveals the true meaning to the entire Karasuno team, Kageyama’s veins turn to ice. 

“A selfish, egotistical king. A tyrannical dictator,” Tsukishima sneers at Kageyama through the net, “That’s just a rumor I heard once, but watching  _ that _ game, I was in full agreement.”

Kageyama’s tongue feels like lead in his mouth.

“He took oppressiveness to such an extreme in that decisive match that he was forcefully benched.”

A warm wave of shame washes over him. 

※ ※ ※

“Faster!” Kageyama yelled at his spikers after the fourth consecutive failed attack.

“Quit messing around,” they shot back.

“Your tosses are completely unreasonable!”

“There’s no point in it if I can’t hit the ball!”

Kageyama glared at his teammates, a bitter showdown between so-called allies. Kageyama was giving his all because he only had one goal in mind: win this match, then the next, and the next, until they won nationals. Didn’t they want to win? 

He needed his teammates to be faster, jump higher, spike harder, because there was no other option. So he continued with his immaculate sets, one after the other. He tossed the ball behind him to the ace, and then… 

The ball dropped. 

Kageyama whipped around and saw an empty court. A chasm had erupted with everyone on one side and Kageyama alone on the other. His own teammates had abandoned him, rejected him, sacrificed the match, all for the sake of telling him:

_ We won’t follow you anymore. _

“Kageyama,” his coach gruffly called out to him, “go sit on the bench already.”

So Kageyama sat on the bench for the first time in his volleyball career. Tears stung his eyes, mixing with the salty sweat dripping down his face. There was no anger, only shame and betrayal.

After the tournament ended, Kageyama walked home with Kazuyo in silence. He expected his grandfather to scold him or give him a lecture about being too controlling. But silence filled the thick air, and Kageyama was choking on it. It didn’t matter if his grandfather didn’t say anything, because he could still hear his voice over and over again in his head.

_ You can only control yourself. _

※ ※ ※

Kageyama feels shame in every inch of his body.

“Tossing the ball up only for no one to be there behind me frightens me down to my very soul.

※ ※ ※

When Kageyama was young and had trouble sleeping, his grandfather would tell him bedtime stories. Kazuyo had studied Western literature in university, and Kageyama loved hearing tales of heroes and gods and beasts to be conquered. His favorite story, however, had none of those. Night after night, Kageyama begged his grandfather to tell him the story of Daedalus and Icarus, a father and son who wanted to touch the sky. They reminded Kageyama of his given name: Tobio, a flying hero.

Daedalus and Icarus had a dream, working hard until they were able to build wings. And then they flew. Daedalus had warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, or else the heat would melt the wax on his makeshift wings, but Icarus felt invincible. So he flew higher and higher, up into the sky, until he could touch the golden sunlight. 

And then Icarus fell. Tumbling into the ocean, alone, his father still flying above him as he sank beneath the waves.

To Kageyama as a child, the story was merely a Greek myth that, albeit a bit morbid, lulled him to sleep. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood it as a cautionary tale: High hopes are admirable, but moderation is important. Kageyama is afraid of falling into the ocean, alone. So he controls and controls, but he still falls.

※ ※ ※

The summer before Kageyama entered high school, his grandfather died.

The doctors said it was kidney failure. Kageyama didn’t understand all the medical terms, so he ran. He ran out of the hospital, up the hills, through the neighborhoods, he ran and ran and ran until his breath was ragged and he couldn’t feel his legs. He vomited in a bush. 

Miwa found him two hours later, lying in a park six miles from the hospital.

The next morning, he woke up with a fever. His sister tried to nurse him back to health, but he struggled to keep food down for a week and ended up losing five pounds. He tried to keep training, but his body gave up on him. 

His grandfather was gone. 

No one stays. 

There were too many things in this world he could not control. 

He laid in bed for weeks with a pain that no medicine or physical therapy could cure, and he stacked more bricks, one by one, until the walls around his heart touched the sky. 

※ ※ ※

“Tossing the ball up only for no one to be there behind me frightens me down to my very soul.” He keeps his eyes trained on his shoes.

“But that’s just a story about junior high, isn’t it?”

Kageyama slowly lifts his head and Hinata stares at him, eyes wide and earnest, head tipped slightly to the left. 

“Since you toss the ball to me properly and all, that stuff doesn’t really matter to me.”

Kageyama searches Hinata’s face for any hint of malice or teasing, but all he sees are Hinata’s pupils blown wide and glinting with determination to win.

Later in the match, when Kageyama finally tosses to Hinata, he’s there.

※ ※ ※

Hinata never leaves his side.

He races Kageyama to morning practice, follows him to lunch and insists they eat together, and challenges him to competitions during afternoon drills. They have a running tally of wins and losses. Hinata talks about his family, what he ate for breakfast, his evening plans, childhood memories, hopes and dreams and fears. He is always there, as constant and consistent in Kageyama’s life as volleyball. 

By winter, Kageyama feels like he knows Hinata inside and out. He can sense exactly where Hinata is on the court at all times without even looking. He can tell when Hinata trudges up the school steps with his shoelaces untied that he had trouble sleeping the night before. He knows that when Hinata grins but his eyes don’t crinkle, it means something is bothering him but he thinks it’s too dumb to talk about. Kageyama doesn’t ask. 

When Hinata asks Kageyama about his hopes and dreams and fears, Kageyama never answers. He keeps the walls around his heart high and strong, and he refuses to let the bricks fall. 

※ ※ ※

Kageyama hides in his room and increases the volume on his laptop, trying to focus on the recording of their last practice match against Nekoma. It only half-works—the screaming voices of his parents and sister bleed through the kitchen walls and into his room. 

“Young lady, if you think we’re letting you move to  _ Tokyo _ to pursue something as frivolous as hair design—”

“I’m not asking you for permission! I’m an adult and I can make my own choices!”

“Kageyama Miwa, do not talk back to your father like that.”

“Why can’t you pick a normal career? Why couldn’t you have gone to medical school or something?”

“Being a hairstylist  _ is _ a normal career!”

“You need to think about your future!”

“This  _ is _ my future. Besides, it’s too late. I’ve already registered for a cosmetology school in Tokyo and I’m moving next month.”

Miwa’s muffled steps get louder as she stomps from the kitchen and down the hall. Kageyama winces when her bedroom door slams shut, the reverberations shaking the walls. The house is silent after that, and it hangs heavy in the air. 

Miwa barely talks to any of them for the next three weeks, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye before she leaves. After she moves to Tokyo, she doesn’t ever call or text. 

Everybody leaves eventually.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama had a lonely childhood. He was quiet in school and had a hard time talking to the other students in class. Miwa was eight years older and already in high school when Kageyama was in elementary, and she was always busy with her own friends; after she quit volleyball, they ran out of things to talk about. His grandfather was his only real friend. 

“Is it true that you don’t have any games, Tobio?”

Kageyama stood off to the side, sipping from a milk carton, while his classmates huddled in a circle with their handheld video games. 

“...Yes,” he mumbled.

“Not even a single one?”

“I don’t.”

“What! You’re so old fashioned!”

Kageyama felt his cheeks heat up and he tried to hide his face. He knew it was weird that he didn’t play any video games, or any games in general. He knew the other kids whispered behind his back. He knew he was awkward and people didn’t like hanging around him, but he just never had time to play video games or make friends. Besides, volleyball was enough to make him happy. He didn’t need games, or friends.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama trails behind the rest of the team as they walk to the bus stop. 

Hinata and Yamaguchi wave their arms in animated gestures as they discuss the latest chapter of some manga, Nishinoya tries to convince Asahi to give him a piggy-back ride, Daichi and Suga discuss strategies for the next practice match. Everyone is smiling and laughing. Kageyama walks on his own.

They pass the general store and Kageyama splits off to walk home.

“Kageyama! Where are you going?”

Kageyama turns to Hinata waving at him. “I’m going home, dumbass.”

“But Captain is treating us to food!”

Kageyama just wants to go home, but he  _ is _ pretty hungry after a particularly grueling practice, and he knows that Hinata will sooner or later convince him to stay anyway. So he stays. 

Daichi comes out of the store with nondescript brown bags and the team huddles around him, excitedly passing around pork buns.

“This one is for you, Kageyama.” Daichi smiles and hands Kageyama a smaller bag.

Kageyama just says, “Oh.”

“Curry bun,” Daichi explains, “They’re your favorite, right?”

“Oh,” Kageyama dumbly repeats. His chest feels tight; he doesn’t even remember telling anyone about his love of curry. “Uh. Thank you.”

“No problem!” Daichi grins and waves his hand as if it was no big deal, as if this wasn’t the first time anyone has ever remembered Kageyama’s preference and then gone out of their way to get it for him. Daichi turns to resume his conversation with Suga. 

Kageyama bites into the curry bun and the warm flavor fills his mouth, then the warmth spreads throughout his whole body. A single brick falls. 

※ ※ ※

The third years are crying, and Kageyama tries to hold back his tears. They lost against Kamomedai in the quarterfinals at Spring Interhigh, and it was the last match he will ever play with this generation of Karasuno High Volleyball Club. 

“We made it to the best eight,” Daichi gives his final captain’s speech, “For us to even get that far at our first nationals is probably a miracle. But I’m sure you guys will be able to go even further.” He smiles through his tears.

“I…” Kageyama’s voice is hoarse. He didn’t even realize he had opened his mouth. “I wanted to go even further with  _ this _ team.” He stops fighting and allows a few more bricks to fall with the tears.

※ ※ ※

Kageyama kicks off his shoes in the entrance foyer and flicks on the lights, illuminating the dark and empty apartment. He drops his gym bag on the kitchen table and prepares a simple dinner of vegetable curry and rice, then watches tapes from the last game—one they lost—against the Azuma Pharmacy Green Rockets and tries to find areas of improvement while he eats. Except for the audio streaming quietly from the laptop speakers, the apartment is still and quiet. 

His phone screen lights up with a notification. Kageyama glances away from the game and sees a text notification from the Adlers group chat.

_ Drinks 2night??? _

It’s from Hoshiumi. Kageyama rolls his eyes—it’s nearly nine o’clock on a Tuesday evening, but that doesn’t stop the incoming stream of messages from the other team members.

_ Yes!!!!!!! _

_ Izakaya on Jozenji-Dori? _

_ That’s the one by the practice gym right? _

_ Ya _

_ Let’s goooooo _

Once in a while, usually after a particularly well-fought win, the other Adlers can manage to drag Kageyama to a bar, but he otherwise keeps to himself and doesn’t hang out with his teammates outside of practice. He spends most nights alone in his apartment with its blank white walls and generic furniture. It’s uninteresting and unspectacular, but it’s a routine that works for him. Come home from practice or a workout. Cook and eat dinner. Shower. Go over volleyball journals and re-watch tapes. Sleep early enough to wake with the sun for a morning run. 

Kageyama depends on the consistency and predictability of the routine, even if it does get lonely sometimes. 

His phone screen lights up once again and, annoyed, Kageyama checks it. It’s not the Adlers but instead, a group chat with Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi. It’s inactive most of the time—the last message was two months ago—but they still keep it to send the occasional inside joke or life update. This time, it’s a text from Hinata.

_ remember when we went to the beach in second year and i forgot sunscreen? hahahaha _

_ it happened again xD _

The next message is a picture of Hinata on some beach in Brazil, sporting a particularly nasty sunburn. He’s wearing a visor, tinted sunglasses, and a tank top that shows off his shoulders and arms. The non-burned parts of his skin are darker than when Kageyama last saw him. The South American sun brings out the smattering of freckles on his nose—there was never enough sun back home to make them stand out that much. His wild, bright orange hair contrasts against the clear blue sky. 

Kageyama doesn’t reply.

※ ※ ※

After their graduation ceremony, Hinata and Kageyama snuck into the gym and shed their gakuran for one last practice session together. They had already retired their Karasuno jerseys—Kageyama’s #2 and Hinata’s #5—after they lost in the Spring Interhigh semifinals, but they couldn’t resist the call of one more game.

“When do you start training?” Hinata called across the court as he served.

Kageyama received and sent it flying back over the net with ease. “In two months.”

“Are you nervous?” Their conversation carried back and forth with the ball.

“I guess. It’ll take time to adjust to the other players’ styles.”

“But you’re good at that! You can send the ball wherever you want, and it’ll be there.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence. 

“Are you nervous about Rio?” Kageyama eventually asked.

“Gwaah of course I am! But I’m also excited!”

“When do you leave?”

“In a year.”

The silence continued until the ball dropped. They played for hours until the sun started setting and their dress shirts were soaked through with sweat. 

Afterward, they laid side-by-side in the grass outside the gym, feeling the spring breeze chill the perspiration on their skin. Hinata’s hair was still the same messy orange, blowing softly in the wind.

Kageyama was never good with endings or goodbyes, but the heaviness in his chest was oppressive. This was the end of a chapter of his life—probably the best one so far, one where he learned how to be a friend and found a family with the Karasuno Volleyball Club. They had shared three years and countless memories, but life was carrying them in different directions. Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Yachi were all going to different universities, Hinata was relocating overseas in a year, and Kageyama was joining the pro V.League. Things would never be the same. 

“It’s going to be different,” Kageyama said to the sky, “playing without you.”

Hinata sighed and rested his hands behind his head. “Yeah. Things are changing.”

“Does it scare you?”

“A bit… But that’s life, y’know? All you can do is try to be brave.”

Kageyama made a noise of agreement. They laid there, quiet, the only sounds coming from the wind rustling the tree branches overhead.

Hinata propped himself up on one elbow and Kageyama could feel his eyes on him.

“Hey, Kageyama?”

“What?”

“Are you gonna get mad if I do something stupid?”

“Depends.”

“I need you to promise you won’t get mad.”

Kageyama grunted. “Fine, I guess. What is it?”

He turned his head and met Hinata’s gaze. Hinata had the biggest goddamn eyes Kageyama had ever seen, and he could probably map out all the different shades of brown in them. He had seen these eyes full of fire in the middle of a match, in tears after a dog in a movie died, crinkled with laughter at Kageyama’s moments of social ineptitude, worn with exhaustion on long bus rides home. 

In that moment, Hinata’s eyes were wide and vulnerable, the setting sun reflecting warmth off his irises. The seconds dragged on, neither of them saying anything. 

Hinata closed his eyes. He leaned down. He met Kageyama’s lips with his own.

Kageyama felt a million sensations at once: his fingers went numb, his spine tingled, his skin burned. Mostly, he felt his brain completely stop. And then he felt himself kissing Hinata back. 

The walls swayed. The bricks cracked. 

He scrambled back, panicked. “Wh— What was that?”

“I— I’m sorry, Kageyama…” Hinata froze in panic.

“Why did you do that?!” Kageyama practically screamed at him.

“I like you, Kageyama,” Hinata said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Kageyama leaped to his feet and snatched his jacket. “I have to go.” He turned to leave, but Hinata reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, you can’t just leave like that!” Hinata’s eyes were pleading now. “The least you could do is reject me properly.” 

Kageyama yanked his arm from Hinata’s grip and pressed his palms to his eyes. “You dumbass! Why did you have to do that?!”

Hinata drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, averting his eyes from Kageyama. “I was trying to be brave,” he whispered into his knees.

“What do you mean, brave?!” Kageyama’s voice was reaching hysteria.

“I…” Hinata lifted his head and met Kageyama’s stare. His eyes: filled with fear and hurt. “I had to at least try. I would never know if I never tried.”

Kageyama sputtered, struggling to find the right words to say. He didn’t exactly hate the kiss—if he was being honest, he wouldn’t have minded kissing Hinata more—but he didn’t have time to unpack any of that. What he  _ did _ know was that Hinata was leaving the goddamn continent in less than a year.

“This will never work,” Kageyama spat out, “You’re leaving next year.”

“Just because I’m going to Brazil doesn’t mean I’m going to stop caring about you!” Hinata was close to matching Kageyama’s levels of hysteria now.

Kageyama groaned and pulled his hair. Hinata was truly a dumbass, and he was going to be Kageyama’s downfall. Hinata was  _ leaving _ , and he had the audacity to pour his whole heart out in the open like that. How did he expect this to work? Kageyama had never even dated anyone, let alone done long distance across god knows how many time zones. Every inch of his body was being pulled in a different direction—he was falling apart.

Hinata was right there. Hinata, the only one who could keep up with him, make him better, push him to be stronger. Hinata, within reach. He wanted to take Hinata’s hand and say  _ Take me, I’m yours— _ but that was a fantasy, and this was the real world. 

Kageyama frantically slammed brick after brick before they could all come tumbling down. 

He couldn’t have something as precious as Hinata’s love in his life just to have it leave one day. Everyone leaves. This time, the expiration date was Hinata’s flight to Brazil.

“You promised, Kageyama. You promised that we would make it to the world stage together.” Hinata’s voice quavered, thick with emotion and on the brink of tears.

“I—I’m sorry, Hinata. I can’t do this.” 

Kageyama turned and ran, and he didn’t look back. How could he?

※ ※ ※

On their graduation day, Hinata had offered his whole self to Kageyama. A free ball sent to Kageyama’s side of the court, positioned for a perfect set. He could have hit that toss. He could have said yes. But sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.

※ ※ ※

FC Tokyo is a  _ bitch _ to play against. Their blockers are absurdly tall, even for pro athletes, their setter is a tricky little shit, and Kageyama is  _ exhausted _ . He had trouble falling asleep last night—he hates away games and finds it difficult to sleep in unfamiliar beds—and he knows he’s not in top form today.

Kageyama messes up the timing on a set which results in FC Tokyo blocking the attack, and the Adlers are now down four points in the final set. He resists the urge to yell at someone, or punch something, and settles for loudly cursing. 

Their coach calls a time out and Kageyama barely processes anything he’s saying. A voice yanks him out of his daze.

“TOBIO!!!” A familiar voice carries over the crowd’s cheers.

Kageyama whips his head around and scans the stands, searching for the source of the voice. He sees…Miwa? Her hair is cut short, but it’s definitely her. She’s wearing a red t-shirt tucked into a white skirt—Adlers colors—and leans dangerously far over the railing to frantically wave her arms.

“YOU CAN ONLY CONTROL YOURSELF!” she screams at him.

Kageyama is surprised, to say the least, but he smiles. He hears the voice of his late grandfather. He closes his eyes. 

He can’t control the blockers on the other team, but he can control other things. The timing of his sets. The angle of his receives. The spin on his serves. He takes a deep breath, feels the sturdiness of the ground through the soles of his shoes, and walks back onto the court. 

They end up losing anyway, but Kageyama doesn’t feel the same rage from earlier. He solemnly claps his teammates’ shoulders, counts his breaths when he showers, and gets dressed with only a bit of heaviness in his chest. When he exits the locker room, Miwa is already there waiting for him. 

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama winces at how confrontational he sounds.

Miwa simply shrugs her shoulders, either oblivious to the sharp tone or choosing to ignore it. “I live here, remember? I had a day off from work so I thought I’d come see my baby bro in the big leagues.” She punches his arm, and her fist bounces harmlessly off his bicep. “Tough loss, but you were good out there. You’ve gotten a lot better since I last saw you play.”

“Obviously. Last time you saw me play was in junior high.”

Miwa throws her head back and laughs. “I guess that’s true. Give me some credit though—I still watched your high school games on TV when you made it to nationals.” Her laughter dies, and she hesitates. 

“Are you busy tonight?” she asks. 

Kageyama shakes his head.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

They walk side by side to a nearby restaurant, and Kageyama is panicking. He has no idea what to say. He hasn’t seen Miwa since she left home years ago, and whatever relationship they had withered after she quit volleyball—once they lost that shared passion, they never found another reason to spend time together.

“Hey, so…” Miwa breaks the silence. “I know I haven’t been around much…” 

Kageyama snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“Yeah.” She sounds resigned. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to grow up alone in that house, especially after grandpa died.” 

Kageyama grunts in response.

“I don’t regret moving out to go to cosmetology school. It’s what I needed to do at the time. And I love it here in Tokyo and I love my job.” Miwa pauses for a few seconds. “I do regret the way we left things off, though.”

“I don’t think there was much to leave things off from,” Kageyama mutters.

Miwa sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. We were never really close... But I never stopped caring about you—You know that, right?”

Kageyama silently nods.

“I’m sorry I never reached out all these years. I was dealing with a lot of shit back then, and well… Once I had my shit figured out, it had been so many years and I didn’t know what to say to you.”

“So you just randomly show up at one of my games?”

“Hah. Yeah, I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it felt like the right thing to do.”

They continue walking, the quiet night settling around them. Kageyama stares at his shoes as he walks, trying to parse through the thoughts in his head. He mostly just replays that blowout fight between Miwa and his parents before Miwa moved out.

Miwa breaks the silence again. “I hope it’s not too late. I’d like to talk more and try to be closer...if that’s something you also want.”

Kageyama pulls his gaze upward to Miwa. She looks hopeful, and maybe even scared. Miwa was the one who had left volleyball, left Miyagi, left him. His grandfather left him. Even Hinata left him. Everyone leaves.

But Miwa is here now. 

Kageyama will always owe his love of volleyball to Miwa. His grandfather’s words of advice will always live in his heart. His rivalry with Hinata will always push him to work harder, get better, grow stronger. People leave, but they’re not gone. Maybe they even come back.

So he nods. “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

※ ※ ※

Kageyama might actually throw up. He hasn’t felt this nervous before a match since...well, ever. He suddenly feels a pang of empathy for first-year Hinata and his pre-game gastrointestinal issues.

He goes to the bathroom and splashes water on his face, trying to calm his nerves. The Adlers are playing against the MSBY Black Jackals, with the Jackals debuting their newest wing spiker: Hinata Shoyo. It’s Hinata’s first V.League game, Kageyama’s first time playing against him since junior high, and their first meeting since he left for Brazil two and a half years ago. 

Kageyama stares at his reflection in the mirror. He’s taller now, the angle of his jaw is sharper, and he has years of experience etched into his muscles. But the more he looks, the more he feels like the scared and confused child who ran and ran and ran until he vomited and passed out in a park. 

※ ※ ※

“Do you have your passport, Hinata?”

“Of course I do!” Hinata squawked in indignation.

“Boarding pass?”

“Yes, Yacchan, I have everything I need. You don’t have to worry so much!”

Yachi blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and launched into Hinata’s arms. Don’t die out there, okay?” Her voice was muffled against Hinata’s shoulder.

“I’ll try my best,” Hinata laughed and awkwardly patted Yachi’s hair.

“Send us lots of pictures!” Yamaguchi reminded Hinata, “Don’t forget about us, okay?”

“Of course I won’t!” Hinata tried to smile over the top of Yachi’s head. “How could I ever forget my best friends?”

“There’s a science museum near the neighborhood you’re staying in. Let me know if you ever go there.” Even Tsukishima held back the sarcasm for today’s farewell. “I doubt you will, though. You don’t have enough brain cells to understand the exhibits.” Well, he held back for the most part.

Kageyama stood off to the side, cursing himself for not knowing what to say. What words could sum up the last four years with Hinata? He knew this day was coming, that Hinata would eventually leave for Brazil, but he didn’t realize how hard it would be to say goodbye. So he said nothing.

Hinata held out his arms wide, and Kageyama let himself get pulled into a group hug. Yachi was squished between the three of them, and Kageyama’s face was stuck between Yamaguchi’s elbow and Hinata’s hair. He felt wetness against his neck and when he looked back down, he saw tears silently falling from Hinata’s eyes—eyes normally wide open with wonder for the world, but currently squeezed shut. 

After a few minutes, they disentangled their limbs from each other. Hinata gave everyone last hugs: Tsukishima reluctantly allowed Hinata to wrap his arms around him for a few seconds, Yamaguchi held Hinata for a brief but strong embrace and then slapped him on the back, and Yachi got a tight squeeze that fully lifted her off the ground. Finally, Hinata turned to Kageyama, who still had not said a word since they arrived at the airport.

“Well…” Hinata faltered, then swallowed.

Kageyama reached out to ruffle Hinata’s hair—bright orange, cut a little shorter than back in high school. When Kageyama first met Hinata, he thought Hinata’s hair was the most obnoxious thing in the world, like a scruffy tangerine that assaulted his eyes. Now, he realized, it was one of his favorite things about him. 

Kageyama let his fingers linger in Hinata’s hair. What could he say to his best friend, his partner? There were no words that could describe their relationship. Hinata had been by Kageyama’s side through all the highs and lows, the soaring triumphs and crushing defeats, an unwavering constant throughout Kageyama’s formative years. Now Hinata was about to cross an ocean, and it already felt like there were a thousand kilometers between them. 

“Don’t do anything too stupid, dumbass.” Kageyama’s voice was wrecked, his throat tight.

Hinata blinked, eyelashes fluttering over brown eyes, and simply nodded. He pulled up his backpack and squared his shoulders. 

“Well. This is it, I guess.” Hinata turned and walked through the security checkpoint, Yamaguchi and Yachi waving until Hinata was lost in the crowd. Kageyama stood for what felt like an eternity. 

On the train ride home, the sunset cast a warm glow over Kageyama’s skin. He looked out the window, the sky the exact shade of Hinata’s hair. He stared at the sun until it dipped below the horizon and disappeared, pulling the familiar orange hue with it until darkness overpowered the light.

※ ※ ※

They never talked about the kiss, but the walls still fell. Kageyama left his heart on that grassy patch outside the gym when he ran away.

After Hinata left Japan, Kageyama rebuilt. He swore to protect himself from the ache in his chest that he felt every time he had to walk away from Hinata. He replaced every single brick, sealed them with cement, and added more to be safe. He ignored Hinata’s calls and stopped replying to his texts. Eventually, Hinata stopped trying. Four years of the closest relationship of his life came crumbling down. The walls grew taller.

※ ※ ※

The Black Jackals end up winning, but Kageyama can’t bring himself to be upset about it. After all the years and all the distance, he and Hinata still have the same crackling electricity on the court together, even with a net separating them. That alone is enough.

The two teams line up to shake hands. Kageyama finally sees Hinata’s eyes up close—the same eyes that broke his heart three years ago—but today, they’re bright and alive, fueled by the thrill of Hinata’s first pro volleyball match.

“You made it.” It’s the only thing that Kageyama can think to say.

Hinata grins up at him. “Yeah. I’m here now.”

※ ※ ※

After the game, the old Karasuno team drags Hinata and Kageyama out for an impromptu reunion at a nearby restaurant. Kageyama hadn’t realized how many people attended just to support him and Hinata, but nearly everyone from his first year team had shown up despite the long-abandoned group chat, despite falling out of touch. 

Kageyama sits at the table, squeezed between Yamaguchi and Hinata, and looks at the people around him. Everyone had changed so much. It’s hard to believe that Tsukishima finally accepted his love of volleyball and went pro, or that Suga is responsible for people’s  _ children _ , or that Tanaka and Shimizu are  _ married _ . But as much as everyone had changed, some things still stayed the same. Asahi still keeps his hair long, Yachi is still intimidated by Shimizu-now-Tanaka, Hinata and Tsukishima still bicker. It was unfamiliar but comfortable, like coming home after a long time away.

Except for whatever it is that’s going on between him and Hinata. It was clear after Hinata’s confession at graduation that there were things left unsaid, but Kageyama didn’t know how to deal with unpredictable things like people and feelings, so they just acted as it had never happened. It was fine since they ended up thousands of miles apart and didn’t talk for years, but now that they’re sitting close enough to bump elbows, it’s unavoidable. Kageyama struggles to swallow his food and chokes on the tension in the air.

Of course, it’s Hinata who makes the first move. As the dinner dies down and people start splitting off into side conversations, Hinata nudges Kageyama’s side and leans in.

“We need to talk,” Hinata whispers. Kageyama’s throat closes at the ghost of Hinata’s breath against his ear, so he silently nods and they both stand up. Suga and Daichi give them raised eyebrows, but no one says anything. They step out of the restaurant into the quiet street.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says flatly once they’re outside. The cold wind nips at Kageyama’s skin, and he wishes he brought a scarf with him.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, that’s what you said less than a minute ago.” Kageyama isn’t trying to be a smartass, but he’s terrified and sucks at social cues and never knows what to say in a good moment, let alone _right_ _now_. 

Hinata rolls his eyes and sighs. “We need to talk about what happened at graduation,” he clarifies, “and what happened afterward.”

Kageyama shifts his weight from one foot to another and scowls. God, he’s  _ really _ bad at talking about feelings.

“Don’t make that face, Bakageyama.” Hinata crosses his arms. “Well? Are you going to say anything?” He’s growing impatient. 

“I’m not very good at this type of thing,” Kageyama mumbles.

Hinata throws his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll go first then. What you did was really shitty, Kageyama. It was whatever when you ran away after graduation because I kind of sprung all of it on you without any warning. And I guess it’s both of our faults for never talking about it. But the way you ignored me for years afterward? It felt like—” 

Hinata’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “I thought you didn’t care about me anymore. Like all those years we spent together meant nothing to you.” Hinata’s voice finally breaks. “You didn’t even say goodbye when I left.” 

Kageyama takes in the man in front of him. Hinata is taller than when he was in high school, but the top of his head still barely reaches Kageyama’s chin. His chest is broader, shoulders more defined, and Kageyama is willing to bet that the muscles beneath the layers of clothes are stronger as well. The way he carries himself feels more centered and disciplined—high school Hinata was always running, skipping, and bounding, but this Hinata stays rooted to the earth, confident and strong and sure. He doesn’t recoil from Kageyama’s sharp glare anymore and holds his ground, demanding an answer. Even his hair is styled differently now. Shorter on the sides and longer on top, but still the same fiery orange. Kageyama can still see the same laughter lines around his mouth and the lightness in his face. His eyes are the same, too. Always a window to Hinata’s emotions, never hiding any of his feelings. This Hinata is not the same Hinata he knew from high school, but this Hinata is the same person he fell in love with all those years ago.

※ ※ ※

Whenever Kazuyo wasn’t playing volleyball, he was always reading. Kageyama used to crawl into his lap and listen as his grandfather read the passages out loud, even though he didn’t understand half of the words. Sometimes, he didn’t understand any of them—Kazuyo was multilingual, so sometimes he read books in completely different languages. 

One day, Kageyama found his grandfather reading a thick book with unfamiliar words on the cover.

“Grandpa, why are you reading backward?”

Kazuyo looked up from his book and chuckled. He beckoned Kageyama over, and Kageyama clambered onto his legs and tried to read the text in front of him.

“It’s an English book. People who speak English write left to right, so their books also turn from left to right.” 

“That’s weird.”

Kazuyo ruffled Kageyama’s hair. “Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s weird.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a philosophy book. Do you know what philosophy is?” Kageyama shook his head. Kazuyo scratched his beard, trying to think of an explanation that would make sense to a young child. 

“It’s sort of like the study of thinking and knowledge itself. It asks questions about reality and our very existence. Does that make sense?”

“Sorta?” Kageyama didn’t actually understand any of it, but he didn’t want to look stupid in front of his grandfather. He looked through a few pages and pointed at a picture of a boat. “What’s that?”

“Ah, this is about the ship of Theseus.” 

“What’s thee-see-us?” The syllables felt unfamiliar and unwieldy on Kageyama’s tongue. 

“Theseus was a hero in ancient Greek mythology. But he’s not that important here. The ship of Theseus is a thought experiment.”

“A thought experiment?”

“It’s sort of like a story where you use your imagination to think about a situation and figure out the true meaning.”

Kageyama still didn’t understand, but he wanted to stay with Kazuyo so he asked a different question. “Why is there a ship?”

“Well in this thought experiment, there’s a ship that belongs to this man named Theseus. Now imagine that some parts of the ship get broken or decayed, so the crew replaces those old parts with new ones. Over many many years, many different parts of the ship get broken, so every single part eventually gets replaced with new parts. So the ship is still Theseus’ ship, but now every piece of wood is technically different from the pieces that made up the original ship.”

Kageyama thought long and hard. “So it’s like how the pro teams sign new players every year, and the old ones eventually retire.” 

Kazuyo beamed and patted Kageyama on the back. “Exactly! You’re a smart one. Now the question is: Is this ship now still the same ship from the beginning?” 

Kageyama went quiet and thought some more. His head started to hurt because this whole thought experiment business was very confusing, but he eventually reached a conclusion. 

“It’s both a new ship and the old ship.” 

“Now how did you figure that out?”

“Well…the Adlers this year have completely different players than twenty years ago. So it’s a new team. But every year, there’s still old people from the year before who already know all the techniques and stuff, so they can teach the new people. No matter who’s on the team, they’re still the Adlers. That never changes.”

Kazuyo smiled, satisfied with Kageyama’s reasoning. 

※ ※ ※

Kageyama still feels like the broken child who turned around to see an empty court, a chasm separating the rest of the world from him. He feels scared, afraid that everyone he loves will eventually leave him.

But he is not the same person he was in junior high. He has spikers now who are always there to hit his sets, he has a sister who cares enough to call, he has friends who take time out of their busy lives to watch his matches. He has Hinata who, after all these years, still pushes him and tests his limits and adamantly refuses to leave him alone.

Hinata is here now, in the same country, standing right in front of him and waiting for an answer. He is what connects Kageyama’s past and present, from the junior high tournament nearly a decade ago to the pro league match they played mere hours ago.

The walls crack. The bricks fall. The cement crumbles to ash.

Kageyama is not the same person he was in junior high who fell into the ocean, alone. He is not the same person he was three years ago who ran away after a first kiss. Every plank has withered away and been replaced by something new, and yet—he is still Kageyama Tobio. The man in front of him is still Hinata Shoyo. He can still fly and brush his fingertips against the sun.

He lets the last brick fall, and he tries to be brave. He takes a step forward. He kisses Hinata. 

※ ※ ※

Hinata lunges forward and manages to slide a foot under the ball, sending it flying back into the air, and Kageyama positions himself. A blur of red with a white 10 splashed on his back, Hinata feints to the right then dashes behind Kageyama to the far left side. 

They haven’t played on the same side of the net over half a decade, but they’re finally together on the world stage, just like they promised all those years ago, the 9 on Kageyama’s jersey aligning next to Hinata’s 10. Kageyama still knows Hinata’s exact position on the court without looking, still tosses to him like it’s instinct. He pushes his fingertips against the ball and sends it lightning-quick to the left.

He turns around in time to catch Hinata at the apex of his jump, fingers outstretched and reaching to the shining stadium lights. Flying.

That night, when they’re curled against each other in bed, two bronze medals laying on the hotel coffee table, Kageyama kisses Hinata’s forehead. 

“Goodnight, Tobio,” Hinata’s sleep-heavy voice murmurs into Kageyama’s chest. 

Kageyama tucks Hinata’s head under his chin and rolls his given name, gifted from his grandfather, on his tongue. Tobio—flying hero. These days, Kageyama prefers to stay closer to the ground, setting for his spiker to fly. It’s all he needs to touch the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> waHOO I really posted two fics in 12 hours huh,,,happy kagehina day amirite. Was this just me processing my unhealthy fear of all my loved ones leaving me and dumping six months of therapy lessons into 9k words? Maybe.  
>   
> Come say hi to me on tumblr (I frequently post about haikyuu). Kudos and comments are very appreciated and keep me going on rough days :’)


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